Restaurant bombing. Furthermore, he admitted to causing Brandon Weber’s death, despite there being no suspicion of his involvement at the time.” Martin rubs his temple, like Jared’s unsolicited confession hurts his lawyerly brain. “As far as I can tell, he did that purely to implicate you. To bring you down with him. And his lawyer has a mountain of chat transcripts”—he gestures to a thick manila folder on his right—“that he alleges were with you, agreeing to a revenge pact and planning the Truth or Dare game.”
Emma looks nervously at the folder. “Have you read them?” she asks.
She showered before Martin got here, so she’s looking more like her usual self. Her dark red hair is still damp, pulled back with a headband, and she’s wearing one of her favorite oxford shirts. She missed the top button, but still. Progress.
“Not yet,” Martin says. “They arrived in my office just before I left to come here. But I’d like to hear your version first, anyway.”
I’m sitting next to Emma, wondering if I’m going to get kicked out of the conversation at some point. I’ve already told Martin everything I know about Jared. Now Mom keeps looking at me uneasily, like she’s wishing I’d stayed at my aunt’s house with Owen. I kind of feel the same way. But if I have to be in this apartment, I’d rather know what’s going on than be stuck in my room alone. So I stay quiet, and stay put.
Emma bites her lip. “I mean. Mom told you, right? I did talk to him a lot. At first.”
Mom shifts in her seat, but before she can answer, Martin says, “Explain to me exactly how you met Jared, what the two of you talked about, and how things ended. Don’t sugarcoat or leave anything out. I can’t help you unless I know the full story.”
My sister takes a deep breath, and I do too. Here we go.
Emma’s voice takes on a mechanical quality, like she’s gearing up for a long speech. “It’s true, what Jared said about how we met online. I was going through a bad time. I’d just found out that Phoebe and my ex-boyfriend hooked up, and I was really upset.” I stare at the faux wood grain of our kitchen table, studiously avoiding Mom’s eyes, because that was a shitty conversation I never want to repeat.
“That was bad enough,” Emma continues. “But then I was looking through Mom’s files, trying to figure out how much money we have set aside for college, and I found the settlement paperwork from Dad’s accident. I was…so angry.” Her eyes are nothing but pupil. “When I read about what Brandon did, I hated him so much that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted—I don’t even know. I wanted to do something. I remembered Simon Kelleher’s old revenge forum, and I went looking for it. It had moved, but I found it eventually. I made up a name and signed on. I met Jared there, and we started talking. We sort of—bonded, I guess. He suggested we talk offline with ChatApp. We used real names then. Well, I used Phoebe’s name.”
She darts a guilty look at me, and I try to keep my expression neutral. It stings that Emma did that, but it’s like Jules said earlier: so not the main issue right now.
“I unloaded about everything to him,” Emma says. “He was a good listener.” She makes a face, as though it pains her to admit that. “Jared said Brandon sounded like the kind of person who’d never had to face a consequence in his life. And that he could help me figure out a way to get even, if I’d help him do the same.”
“But he didn’t tell you his story?” Martin asks. “You weren’t aware of his connection to Eli Kleinfelter?”
“No,” Emma says emphatically. “I didn’t know anything about that until Detective Mendoza told me. He said Jared figured out Mom was Eli’s wedding coordinator and decided to…use me.” She swallows hard. “All Jared told me was that someone had ruined his brother’s life, and his mom killed herself because of it. I felt horrible for him.” Emma flushes and looks down at the table. “Jared said we could start with me. He thought we should do something to…hurt Brandon. So he wouldn’t be able to play football anymore, and then he’d know what it’s like to lose something important.”